Cry
by Autumdragon
Summary: Because sometimes... we all need to cry. Because sometimes even the strongest of all cannot conceal their anguish. The mere feather of existance floated right through Merlin, leaving behind a sad, pathetic excuse of a man. oneshot


**Hey everyone**

**I'm currently recovering. Mono's gone, but a cold has taken its place. I've decided maybe writing a bit of angst can help me vent frustrations. **

**Hope you are all well**

**This is dark, so be warned. **

* * *

…_Because sometimes, everyone has to cry…_

…_Because sometimes, not even warlocks…. Not even the most powerful and magical of them all can contain their anguish... _

Yet he does not find relief or release in anyone without exposing his truth.

His cursed truth.

Not a gift.

And the hushed tears come at night when he wakes up from his nightmares – no – night realities.

_Will dies in his arms… because of him_

_His mother collapses… covered in dark magic… because of his selfishness _

_Gaius takes his last breath…because of his irrational decisions _

_Gwen's eyes lose the sparkle when her father is killed…because he never knows when to stop_

_Freya dies in front of him… because he cannot save her_

_Morganna looks at him with unfamiliarity and foul realization that she is dying… because he cannot watch Arthur fail_

_And his father dies moments after meeting him… because he is too clumsy and foolish to defend himself _

He finds himself walking… late at night until the warming light of day stretches across the horizon and reminds him like a clock that it is time to place that mask of happiness, the façade of this "Merlin" character he is.

It is time to return to Camelot and pretend.

He is a character in a play, while Uther directs the ongoing events. He is the sketchy character in the background, the one who Uther keeps changing. The one who isn't yet third dimensional. Who blends in when needed… who will take blame for all eternity. The comic relief. The… fool.

The puppet with no personality, as he is not yet known. For reasons he has himself to blame; no one can know who he truly is.

And it's overwhelming… to feel such a weight being hammered on the shoulders constantly. To hear the voices of the victims. To be the accused. To be…Merlin.

His face says he's happy. Yet his eyes beseech comfort. Understanding… Arthur.

.

…_Because sometimes, too much is expected of Merlin… _

_._

He completes his chores in record time before disappearing into the castle backgrounds. He floats around unnoticed. Yet his steps are heavy… the weight pulling his body down.

He has not eaten in days.

He has not had a proper sleep in months.

Gaius has not noticed. Gwen has not noticed.

Yet Arthur, unbeknownst to Merlin, has.

Yet he is not certain what to do with the different Merlin. The "Yes, Sire," Merlin. The punctual Merlin. The quiet Merlin. The death in his eyes Merlin. The heaviness of each step Merlin. The bags heaving down his eyelids Merlin. The bones jutting out Merlin. The malnourished Merlin.

The broken Merlin.

He has no idea.

And slowly… he watches as he sinks away. Fades away, his arm outstretched to Arthur. Yet he cannot reach. He cannot...

.

_And sometimes, we all need that feeling of importance. _**Significance. Of being wanted.**

.

It isn't Gaius who wakes him. Nor is it the sunlight; for how can it be when Merlin awakes in a sweat long before sunrise, plagued with the memories of his guilt-ridden deeds? His nightmares are taking a turn for the worse now. He sees all those whom he has hurt; Will, his mum, Gaius, Gwen, Freya, Morganna. And he fears Arthur will be his next unwilling victim. Will suffer from the unwanted tragedy that walks alongside Merlin. His body aches as he gets to his feet. He won't fall back asleep.

He never will.

It's as if a hole is swallowing him… enveloping him in its suffocating grasp and refusing to let go. To give him time…sympathy. Pity, even. He's not the boy he was before. Upon entering Camelot he knew he was naïve. But this shadow… that possesses him and causes him to zombie his way through life… is this how the rest of his years will be? It seems meaningless, and pointless and…

_Useless._

He is aware of his destiny. But after all he did, how can Merlin trust this dragon? The Dragon… the 'foreseer' of destiny…is a monster. Bound by revenge – his thirst for vengeance blinding the reasoning that Merlin remembers so vividly _screaming _at him.

Yet once he saw the damage the Dragon had caused, Merlin remembers, he screamed harder. Because a realization had dawned on him that made him sick. The Dragon is not the monster – it is Merlin. Warlock. Sorcerer. Monster.

_(Who? Merlin? Who's that?_

_Over there._

_That's not Merlin.)_

No. Merlin isn't Merlin anymore. He died long ago. Merlin contemplates when his happiness started to become feigned. It was long before his father died mere hours after finding him. He had slipped through his fingertips like water. Then when was it…?

He cannot, for the life of him, remember. All he knows is…

The mere feather of existence floated right through Merlin, leaving behind a sad, pathetic excuse of a man.

_(That's no man. _

_He's merely a boy._

_An empty shell)_

He's no longer alive.

.

…_Because sometimes, there's a reason to feel not good enough…_

.

He doesn't look up until he notices the sun beginning to rise. The alarm in his brain goes off and he can already begin to feel his face routinely pull into his dopey grin. But it never reaches his eyes.

It never. reaches his eyes.

He knows he is late. Arthur will be livid. The supercilious frown scrutinizing the tardiness of his servant boy. The uselessness of his job.

But when he looks up, he's at the lake. His lake.

Freya's lake.

Of all places, his damned feet take him _here._

He feels his throat painfully constrict and his eyes burn from the heat of his tears contrasting the nip of the wind.

He steps into the water, his feet moving at their own accord.

His eyes – so dull

His steps – so labored

His life – now painful

Too painful

And the water is absorbed by his clothes and Merlin gasps when it reaches and numbs his stomach and he turns to face the shore and looks back and contemplates and then soon the overwhelming _**.guilt. **_pushes him down; he's sinking and falling and he wonders if this is it – and a smile is ghosting his lips as the water reaches his heart and he feels it stop.

He feels time stop.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

He takes one last look before he hears the lake call his name.

Something is calling him, indeed.

_Succumb._

_Concede. _

And his eyes roll to the back of his head just as he sees something or some_one_ come crashing through the forest but he falls back and as the water hungrily embraces him he hears his name being called again by a familiar voice and all of a sudden the lake reaches up entirely and squeezes its fingers into his lungs and grips his heart to a halt and he plummets into the bottomless lake, tossing and turning and choking and crying and bleeding and hurting and mourning and anguishing

_(Who's Merlin?_

_Dead?_

_Pity.)_

The darkness jars its way into Merlin's vision just as the water calms. Freya's warm comfort wraps around him and he is suddenly at peace. But now arms grab Merlin's and pull and yank and rip and tear and – Freya!

.

…_Because sometimes, nothing seems worth it anymore…_

.

Cold seeps its way back and her warmth has vanished. Dusted over him before whipping away with the cold winds of cruelty.

He screams in the water and desperately thrashes out of this spiteful grip ripping him away from salvation.

Merlin surfaces and is pulled to Arthur's chest and dragged until they collapse on to the dry earth. Merlin's face is wet, not only from the moisture of death, but from the tears. He is still struggling against Arthur's stony grip to get back to the water and feel that sense of meaning…_**belonging.**_

And he pleads to just let him…

But Arthur won't – _can't_ let him go. For he knows that without Merlin, there is no Arthur. He knows the inner turmoil Merlin is suffering. And he is vowing to himself right this second as Merlin begs for death that he will do whatever it takes to share the burden Merlin has had unwillingly placed on his heart.

He's patient as he holds Merlin who finally stops worming his way out of the mock embrace.

.

_...Because sometimes…_

.

Merlin buries his face into Arthur's chest and cries. And quietly and secretly, Arthur cries with him. For he almost lost his best friend. For he almost lost the one who makes him feel like he is _**significant.**_

_...We all need to cry. _


End file.
